Jennica Harper: INT. SHARON OLDS POEM—NIGHT

INT. SHARON OLDS POEM—NIGHT

Sharon’s at the window, but you’re further down the page, waiting for her husband who will return now but not forever. Sharon’s legs are jelly from fucking, and she waits for her husband to return and return, as she believes he always will. In other poems he has gone to make a sandwich they will split, or lay a towel on the bed so she doesn’t have to sleep in the wet spot. His legs are fine. In other poems she is sucking cock for the first time, she sees what’s coming and runs toward it. The window is open wide—isn’t it? The window shows what is coming, but does not show all that is coming. It’s just one square of the view and cannot be expected to show more. Maybe the husband will keep returning, and it’s Sharon who will be gone, leaving an empty room with a window that may or may not be open. Maybe it’s all right that they have this poem, that the snow comes for them silently, without fanfare, no prints or sound of galloping hooves. They couldn’t see it coming and maybe that’s all any of us can ask for.

Jennica Harper is a Vancouver poet and TV writer. Her most recent book was WOOD (Anvil Press, 2013), shortlisted for the Dorothy Livesay Prize. A new collection, BOUNCE HOUSE, is forthcoming with Anvil in 2019, with illustrations by Andrea Bennett.